Ace Combat 5, Untold Stories
by Dijkman
Summary: The Nilanian 12th Fighter Sqdrn. is has survived their first fight. But Yuktobania is far from finished(Chapter 5 added)
1. Epilogue

**PROLOGUE**

/_02 November 1995, 09:03 hours, Nilenian Airspace, F104 Starfighter; Wizard 01_/

Major Geoffrey Frost looked with a happy expression at the clear white clouds below him as he shot through them with his F104 Starfighter. He was the wingcommander this flight and it was clear skies all the way.

His radio crackled: _"Smooth sailing ey sir?"_

He looked at his right, his wingman Captain McDowell was also flying a similar F104 fighter.

He gave a thumbs up sign to the captain, who, in return, waved at him and asked:

_"How's it with your kid Geoff. I haven't seen him last time Debby visited the base."_

Geoffrey looked at the small picture of his wife Debby and his 5-year-old son Michael.

He had put the photograph next to the radar display. He smiled as he gently touched the photo with his gloved fingertips.

Putting his oxygenmask back into place, he was planning to answer the captain but the radio began bleeping, a incoming message. With a sigh he finished fastening his mask and gave a apologetic look at Wizard 02 Starfighters as he raised his shoulders.

"Hang on Wizard 2, seems we've got a call from the base."

_"Roger that lead, Wizard 0-2 shutting up."_

"Thanks Mac." He said with a grin as he changed radiofrequencies.

The voice of a slightly panicking air traffic controller filled his ears.

_"This is Minella Air Defence Control to Wizard 01 do you copy!?"_

"Roger Minella Control, Wizard 01 is receiving you, over" He answered with a frown, probably still a rookie.

/_02 November 1995, 09:05 hours, Minella, AFB Main Tower_/

"New orders Wizard 01, 4 high speed bogies have entered Nilenian Airspace at grid sector 3."

Back in the Minella AFB Main Tower the air-traffic controller took a quick look at his radar screen checking the readings it was displaying before continuing:

"Bogeys are bearing one-one-zero, altitude 6000."

The young controller coughed as he looked over his shoulder at the base commander who gave a silent nod, he swallowed and again tapped the communications button, which would put him in direct contact with Wizard Flight.

But just as he was planning to start talking a large hand was gently put on his shoulder.

"I'll take this one corporal." The commander mumbled.

"Yes sir." The corporal said as he gave the headset to his superior.

/_02 November 1995, 09:06 hours, Nilenian Airspace, F104 Starfighter; Wizard 01_/

_"Intercept and identify unknown bogies."_

A new lower and much calmer voice came through the radio.

_"Hold you're fire, I repeat do not engage unless fired upon . . . copy Wizard lead?"_

Major Geoffrey Frost looked at his flight map and noticed that sector 3 was just in front of their patrol route.

He also noticed that it lay close to the Osea - Yuktobania war zone.

"Great. . ." He mumbled under his breath before turning his attention back the waiting air-traffic controller.

"Copy that Minella Control, Wizard flight, intercepting unknown bogies bearing one-one-zero, altitude 6000."

Damn this was turning to be a really bad day. He looked at his right where Wizard 02's Starfighter still was flying in perfect formation, they were only with 2 fighters against 4 potential hostile fighters.

'Maybe it will work out' He thought with a sad grin knowing that it was only a illusion to keep his mind in check.

"Back to business" he mumbled flipping the radio frequency back to normal.

"Heard that Wizard 02?"

_"Yeah, just the way I like it." _Mac replied sarcastically through the communications link, he probably had also noticed that they were a bit outnumbered here.

"Copy that Wizard 02 . . . stay close." With a sad grin still plastered on his face he flipped his visor and pushed his control stick to a hard right making his F104 Starfighter bank sharply to its side as it dove through the white clouds.

/_02 November 1995, 09:23 hours, Nilenian Airspace, F104 Starfighter; Wizard 01_/

Clearing the higher clouds the F104's entered a lower portion of their first flightpad.

The clouds here were a lot darker, perhaps a bad omen, or was it just his imagination playing tricks on him? Major Frost thought as he checked his target radar the bogeys should be in visual range shortly.

As they made a slow turn Wizard 02 spoke up:

_"Bandits at 5 o'clock, looks like . . . two pair of MIG 21's"_

Looking over his shoulder, while finishing their slow turn he also noticed the reflections of four dark green fighters flying in a tight square formation only several hundreds of feet below their flight path.

"Roger that Wizard 02 hold your position, no need to provoke them."

He turned his radio to a more commonly used frequency clearing his throat he pushed the radio button:

"This is wizard flight leader to unknown MIG 21's you're entering restricted Nilenian Space." No reply.

"This is Wizard flight you're in direct violation of Nilenian sovereign airspace, stand down and return to your own space." Again no reply he felt a speck of sweat running down his cheek.

Just as he was planning to ask command what to do next several warning lights began to flicker. A distorted voice broke into the main communications frequency:

_"This is flight leader to Strike 2 flight engage enemy Nilenian Starfighters."_

"What the hell!" While looking in shock the 4 MIGs broke their formation and headed towards their higher intercept position at 8000 feet.

"Lead! Incoming missiles!" Wizard 02 rumbled turning his eyes of the incoming fighters to the two smoke trails heading in front of the fast approaching fighters.

"Control we're being fired upon!" he yelled through the microphone before quickly turning his attention back to the direct problem.

"Wizard 02 break and attack, I repeat engage the enemy."

_"Copy! Wizard 02 breaking formation!" _He was glad to see that Mac's F104 already was making a sharp turn showing its white belly and the 4 Sidewinder missiles it carried while veering off from his own fighter.

Releasing some decoy pods he slammed the throttle to full and made a sharp turn away from the incoming missile trajectories, with some luck they would go for the decoys.

The engine roared as the Starfighter sped towards the still approaching MIGs with full afterburners. The enemy missiles shot past him hitting nothing but thin air.

They wouldn't die that easily Frost thought with an evil grin as his F104 moved in closer.

Using the sun that broke momentarily through the clouds he cleared the gap and selected his M61 vulcan-canon.

"DIE MIG DIE!" He roared while pointing his gunsight, at the lead enemy fighter, squishing the trigger hard.

20-Mm grenades blasted out of his vulcan-canon and streamed to the most forward MIG21 ripping away its armour plating and slashing into the enemy fighter internal systems.

As the lead enemy fighter began to break into two, its fuel beginning to ignite, the enemy pilot screamed in total despair knowing death's cold dark glare was upon him.

_"NOOOOO This cannot be . . . THIS CANNOT BE . . . AAHHHHH!!! _Krzzzzzzztttt

With a bright yellow flash the MIG exploded cutting the enemy fighter pilot's scream.

"Take that scum!" He heard Mac yell as he saw Mac's fighter shooting through the dissipating debris of another MIG 21 which had died with a well placed Sidewinder.

/_Wizard 02_/

"Nice shot lead!" Mac yelled as he blasted through the debris of what was once a MIG21. "2 Down!"

Looking for a new target he noticed that the unfortunate MIG pilots' wingman had moved behind Geoff's fighter.

"Shit Geoff! Watch it! Enemy fighter at your six!"

But his warning was already too late.

Mac could only watch in terror as the MIG21's belly canon flamed up, delivering its deadly payload of 23mm grenades at Geoffrey's fighter.

"Eject Geoff, EJECT!" He screamed as he saw his friends' plane began to break apart as grenades began ripping apart the slim rocket shaped body of the F104.

/_Wizard 01_/

'The sky was so bright, so blue and serene'.

'Only a single white bird was flying through the air.'

'If only that screaming noise would stop . . .'

With a white flash he woke up and looked around, still a bit dazed, then it all had come back, his entire life had shot past him in a mere second.

The end must be very near he thought with a pained grin as the last scene seemed to unfold before him.

Looking down he saw a pair of mutilated and bleeding legs. His own legs he realised with a sad logic, a grenade must have blasted straight through his plane. Also the shilling air that roared through the cockpit was real enough, not that it mattered much more. His knew he was dying as he felt that life leaving him . . .

His final thoughts were with Debby and Michael, as he looked at the photograph, he felt regret that he wouldn't see his son grow up.

"This ones for you Michael!" Geoffrey rasped as blood seeped out of his mouth and nose

With his last strength Major Geoffrey Frost made his fighter stand up vertically and he raised Wizard 02:" MAC! Tell . . .

/Wizard 02/

. . . _Debby that I love her!" _Were the last words Mac heard from his friend as he watched the pursuing MIG21, unable to evade, crashed into the burning starfighter, exploding in a bright yellow and red flash as the two fighters collided.

_. . . farewell Geoff . . . _he whispered as he closed his eyes.

Opening his eyes a second later a red blur was all he saw as a savage fury took over.

Rolling his fighter to a sharp turn towards the two remaining enemy fighters only one thought remained: They would pay!

**TO BE CONTINUED**

This is my first try at making a Ace Combat fanfic, so advice is always liked. I'm not very familiar to the Ace Combat Universe but when I saw pictures of the new Ace Combat 5 I immediately wanted to have it, even though I don't have a PS 2. Have to wait a bit though (Am Europian so it won't be out until early 2005) but I'll defenitaly buy it when it comes out. Still I hope this epilogue is a good start. I'll propably put in some more action scenes in the near future.


	2. Chapter 01, Reassignments

_'Never forget the past, what happened back then has shaped the events occurring today...'_ Prime Minister Klauss Steyrlich, 1942 - 2009 

**CHAPTER 1, REASSIGNMENTS.**

15 Years Later.

Main Island of Curisou, Nilenian Island Kingdom.

_22 September 2010/ Tripolia AFB, hangarbay 3, 13:00 hours._

"The landing gear seems to be in order"

2nd Lieutenant Michael Frost mumbled as he softly touched the hydraulic lowering gear of the Mirage's extended front wheel.

Feeling its cold smooth metallic surface underneath his fingers he somehow felt completely at ease.

For a moment there was no problem in the world, no insecurity or worries about the future.

It was maybe stupid to gently touch a piece of lifeless machinery and feel these kind of emotions but nobody, except a pilot or perhaps a mechanic, would understand what it meant to simply have a bond with a plane.

He grinned, his father would have understood, he had been also a fighter pilot so many years ago.

Michael would never forget the days when he was taken along with his mother as she went to visit the airbase his father was stationed at. Standing behind the barbed wire at the main entrance he had stood looking in awe and excitement as fighters, Phantom II's, F104's, A6's and F15's taxied towards their hangars or runways ready to take off on another hair raising mission.

He always had pictured himself taking one of these great machines and fly to the skies, flashing through the clear white clouds turning and twisting his fighter in all kind of tight turns while taking down enemy fighter after enemy fighter. That child dream, off wanting to shoot down enemy fighters in his own fighter, had changed abruptly as his father's F104 didn't return that fatal cloudy and rainy day almost 15 years ago. Even though he still enjoyed planes afterwards, the fun of war saw from a kids point of view, was totally gone.

He gave a sigh, no need to remember the past he was now at the present and he knew his father would have been proud to see his son also taking to the skies.

Turning his attention back to his pre-flight checklist, he held in his left hand, he went over to the next item; weapons load-out and configuration.

Bending his long slender figure slightly he walked underneath the fuselage from the front of the plane to the left delta shaped wing of the fighter, watching closely for any damage to the hull as he went along.

Not noticing any dents, damages or any other malfunctions Michael turned his eyes towards the ordnance that was being placed on the Mirage 2000E five weapon hard points, two on each wing and one under the main fuselage.

The red tipped warhead of a much larger sized missile compared to the standard Sidewinder missile was clearly visible as he grabbed the entry ladder planning to check the weapons computer located in the cockpit.

"A AMRAAM missile?" Michael murmured in surprise as he recognised the large shaped blue painted missile.

Letting go of the entry ladder Michael jumped down and took a closer look at the threatening blue coloured missile, he only had seen AMRAAM's so far in either technical manuals or in the 'Pilot's Post', the base newspaper and certainly not in real live on any NRAF fighter.

But there they were, put on the two outer hard points, of the five main hard points the Mirage possessed, hung two AMRAAM air-to-air missiles.

Looking at the pre-flight checklist he gave a small smile, he wasn't making things up.

Their it clearly stood; 2 AIM 120's (commonly know as AMRAAM's) and a further 2 MATRA 120's Sidewinder missiles along with 500 rounds of 30mm bullets for the two DEFA 5-53 cannons were to be, or had been in case of the missiles, loaded onto his fighter.

The missile was one of the new prides of the Royal Nilenian Airforce (NRAF) so he had read in the Pilot's Post only a few days ago.

This new medium range air to air missile would greatly enhance the defensive capabilities of the Nilenian Royal Air Defences.

But further in the article it also said that the AMRAAM missile still was in the process of being distributed to front units, and therefor was not in common issue yet.

And this being airbase in the middle of the island group it was a surprise to see the latest kind of ordnance being prepped on his bird. He scratched his head as a pair of mechanics walked past him getting ready to load the rest of the Mirage's weaponry.

Michael stood there silently watching the two mechanics as they carefully placed another missile onto one of the hard points.

Puzzled at why there was a need for the latest of weaponry to be put on his fighter he didn't hear the Rover 4x4 approaching the main maintenance hangarbay.

"Dreaming again 2nd lieutenant Frost!"

A low voice angry rumbled behind his back, startling 2nd lieutenant Michael Frost back to the present, he would have recognised that commanding and threatening voice anywhere on the world.

Turning quickly around he knew that Colonel McDowell would be ready to give him a stern lecture... again.

Ending his turn Michael came to attention and briskly saluted but saw, with some relieve and surprise, that Colonel McDowell was not looking at him but was looking with his cold steel grey eyes at the Mirage 2000 that was standing behind him, Frost's new fighter.

The 48-year-old war veteran was actually quite liked all over the base for his fair treatment off all base personnel even though he sometimes was a bit tough and strict.

The colonel was a small man, just 1.64 metres long, he was dwarfed compared to his pilots.

Even so he had a strong aura that clearly stated that he was the command authority and if you had a conversation you felt like you had to look up to him. Adding to his impressive command aura were the addition of a pair of cold steel-grey coloured eyes. Other visible features were his bright white hair that always seemed to be trimmed to the millimetre and a large scar on his cheek.

He was therefor nicknamed the 'White Bull'.

A very fitting name if you knew him better, and Michael Frost did know him to his own regret.

He swallowed and remained perfectly still as he waited for the Colonel to begin the conversation.

It was clear that he would again be chewed out for 'dreaming off' on duty so no need to provoke the 'White Bull' any more by also not showing any respect to a superior commanding officer.

Luckily the Colonel didn't seem to notice him as he just continued watching over the Mirage while folding his arms behind his back.

"So what do you think" The colonel finally asked, after what seemed like hours, turning his attention from the Mirage back to Frost who still stood at attention, casually answering Frost's salute.

"It's a fine fighter sir!" Michael answered feeling relieved, apparently no angry senior officers for him this day.

Lowering his arm slowly to his side he turned towards the sleek grey and blue coloured Mirage 2000, NRAF proudly put on the tail next to the Nilenian flag, a five point blue star with a white crown in a white and blue coloured circle. At the front section his name was clearly visible just below the canopy spelled in bright white letters, _'2nd lieutenant Michael Frost'._

Even though the colonel was standing next to him he couldn't help but let go off a little smile. Finally! After two hard years of training at the academy, he got his very own plane!

"You bet it is a fine fighter!" McDowell rumbled turning Frost's attention back to the colonel, fearing a pre-emptive lecture for his smile. The mechanics had finished loading the missiles and were just starting to load the twin canons with large heavy belts of 30mm rounds for the DEFA 5 - 53.

"I'm sorry to see it, and you, go." He mumbled so softly that only Michael heard him.

"Sir?" Michael asked startled, forgetting the threat of any reprimands that had been going through mind earlier.

"You're being reassigned son." McDowell answered again very casually, just like it was the simplest thing in the world. Taking a last look at the Mirage the Colonel turned around slowly and started walking back to his Rover.

Just as he almost slammed the door shut Colonel McDowell turned his head briefly around piercing him with those deep steel grey eyes. "Briefing at 14:00 hours lieutenant... DON'T dare to be late!"

"I won't be, Sir!" He was barely able to make out, still a bit dazed by the news he just had received.

He saluted as the colonel drove past him towards the main building, leaving him behind still pondering what this all meant.

What in the world was happening here? He was just stationed here for a month and now, as he was just settling in, he was to be reassigned? 

Shaking his head, clearing his confused mind, he took a final gaze at his fighter, the clear skies were letting the sunbeams play on the shining metal surface of his Mirage 2000.

It was perhaps not one of the best fighters in the world, but like the colonel mentioned, it was still a potent and beautiful fighter.

It was just like a picture you would see used for a recruitment poster; the sunrays reflecting on the Mirage as it stood in front of the hangar.

Again shaking his head Michael thought back to his conversation with the Colonel and the briefing that would be held at 14:00 hours.

Wait a sec! 14:00 hours!

Checking his watch he was startled to see that the briefing was already over 30 minutes.

Taking his bicycle, which he had dumped in the bushes next to the hangar, he sprinted back to the 23rd Squadron barracks.

He wasn't planning to be late, this was just turning out to be a really weird but interesting day.

_22 September 2010/ Tripolia Airforce-base, briefing room 2, 13:55 hours._

While fiddling with his flight suit zipper he noticed that major Blackovitz, a senior flight leader of the 22nd, was staring at him with a disproving look on his face. The major was rumoured to be an old ISAF officer, or at least that was what he had heard. The major, had some kind of Asian heritage, and also had some sort of shared history with the Colonel, but that was again all again information that had came from the rumour mill.

The only thing that had spiked his interest was the possibility of an old ISAF pilots in their small airforce.

It was a known fact that many former ISAF returned to their own countries after the organisation dissolved.

Also the ISAF exploits were not a rumour, even if the Major was not an old ISAF pilot everyone knew the ISAF and its high ideals it once stood for.

Even he, who was to young to remember the conflict between the ISAF and Uresia, knew the ISAF.

In documentaries, he had followed on the Discoverer Channel, and in the many manuals he had gathered in his years at high school the ISAF was always prominently called in many of them.

A peacekeeping force, defending the weaker countries, defending the innocent by gathering them under a single banner.

Not that it mattered for his small country anymore, the ISAF was dissolved long before he had school.

Even so the major, ex ISAF or not, was still staring with him with that disapproving look on his face so he quickly stopped fiddling with the zipper of his flight suit.

It was just that he couldn't help it, he felt excited, so he had to distract himself so not to start going into a dreaming state. Also the idea that there was a possibility of some real action made him feel tense.

The papers and the NNBS, Nilenia National Broadcast System, were lately all focused on the rising tensions between Osea and Yuktobania. Then again the two bickering countries were almost always in the news the past years.

But the past weeks they had really dominated the headlines. Prominent figures from both nations had made threats and accused each other from supporting separatist terrorists to harassing small neutral countries by posing unreasonable embargo's and economical sanctions.

Even though the two superpowers had not made any threatening military moves toward Nilenia yet, or any other nation for that matter it was not uncommon to see incursions on Nilenian controlled territory during times of war. It was just like they said themselves, small countries like Nilenia were harassed, it didn't matter if they did it themselves that was a minor detail. It would be just like the war 15 years ago.

Turning his gaze quickly away from the now sour look of the major he watched at the other pilot.

Also a pilot of the 22nd Tactical Fighter Squadron this one was a far better looking then the emotionless looking major.

The pilot was a young attractive female lieutenant named Janet Deveraux, callsign Comet.

As she looked up from her notebook noticing him watching her she gave him a gentle smile, which he gladly returned. That was at least one person who wouldn't skin him alive during this briefing.

Michael had met her a few minutes ago while bicycling past some parked F4 Phantoms, which were undergoing routine maintenance.

A young female pilot with short blond hair had showed up in front of him as he made a turn around a Phantom with its canon detached lying on a cart as mechanics cleaned it.

Noticing she also seemed to be heading towards the main facility he had offered her a ride, which she had gladly accepted.

"_Thank you!" she had answered cheerfully as she gently sat on the backseat of his bike. His heart immediately warmed up by that cheerful reply._

"_Are you also heading for briefing room 2? Lieutenant . . . ?" She had asked as he started peddling feeling happy that he had offered a ride._

"_Lieutenant Michael Frost, 23rd Squadron, callsign "Dreamer"." He had answered turning his head around to have a closer look at his back seat passenger. He was immediately lost into a pair of beautiful flickering green eyes. Just as he was able to break free of those two eyes another voice cut in turning his attention back to his steering._

"_**HEY WATCH IT BUDDY!"**_

_He was only just able to dodge a few mechanics that had yelled at him as he drove straight towards them. _

_He felt his head turn bright red as he quickly turned his eyes back to the pavement and was just able to dodge two mechanics that were working on a targeting-radar of a Phantom. _

_The female pilot sniggered softly behind his back making him feel more like and idiot then he already felt._

"_Lieutenant Janet Deveraux a.k.a. "Comet" 22nd Interceptor Squadron." _

"_That was some impressive manoeuvring." She added with a laugh breaking his uncomfortable feeling._

Remembering that almost near crash it actually was quite funny now he thought about it.

He looked at the clock that hung above the door.

It was almost 14:00 hours the colonel should be here any moment now.

Just as he thought that the door opened and the colonel came marching in totally focused on reading a letter.

"Attention!" The Major barked as they quickly rose from their chairs, the Colonel walking past them his eyes still on the letter.

"At ease people." The Colonel ordered as he stopped in front of the room putting the letter on back in a map that was laying on the table.

As they sat down the colonel briefly looked at the young pilots while he took a position next to a chart of the Nileanian Kingdom and its surrounding countries.

He felt saddened to send them away so soon without any proper training but the orders came from high up and after looking at all the files Lieutenants Deveraux and Frost were the most qualified of all the rookie pilots.

Even so they were still kids but at least he was able to get a veteran flight officer to go with them.

Picking up the mission file Colonel McDowell started the briefing:

"All right people, as you all know by now you'll be transferred ASAP."

"And with as soon as possible I mean you'll be leaving today."

"You're new assignment will be the Minella Airforce base on the island of Iolla", he pointed to a place at the most Northern part of the map almost lying right between Osea and Yuktobania,

"They're creating a new squadron and you have been selected to join them there."

"We'll be receiving some new recruits to fill up the gap."

All the pilots remained perfectly silent as the news filtered through, a new squadron at Minella AFB, right near the demilitarised zone that was separating Osea and Yuktobania.

Just as if the Colonel read the minds he continued his story:

"You might have noticed that in the news there is some mentioning of a more aggressive stand of the Yuktobania Military and the response of the Oseans."

The two youngest pilots; the 2nd lieutenants Frost and Deveraux both nodded while Major Blackovitz just remained perfectly silent as he continued:

"Even though there are some sort of peace negations underway," he made a gesture that made clear that he didn't believe in those negations, "the current situation is best described as explosive and our government has put the NRAF and the whole military on high alert."

Picking up a communiqué he had just received, and had been reading when entering the briefing room, he waved it in the air for the pilots to see the Royal Emblem was pictured on it.

"This is the official statement that will be released to the press in 2 hours."

"And should therefore not be discussed by any non base personnel!" MacDowell gave a threatening look at the 3 pilots making it clear this was highly confidential.

"I hope this is clear!?" He added while lowering his voice so it sounded even more threating.

"Yes SIR!" They said in all in unison.

"Hmmmpfff" McDowell grumbled putting on his reading glasses, appearing satisfied at how the pilots' had reacted.

"Fine. I'll read it to you then."

Opening the letter with a flip of his wrist he started reading:

"_To the People of the Nilenian Kingdom."_

"_As of 09:00 hours, 22 September of the year 2010 all land, air and sea forces have been put on high alert."_

"_Intelligence assets in both Osea and Yuktobania suggests a increased military activity along our nations Northern borders and therefore can be considered a threat to our nations sovereignty." _

_Colonel McDowell pointed with his thumb at the map hanging behind him, a piece of both Osea and Yuktobania were visible on the above part of the chart, very near to their new home base to be. _

"_All off duty servicemen and woman have been called back to service as well are several reservist detachments who will receive re-enrolment orders shortly after this document is released."_

"_We don't know how the situation will develop in the following days ahead but, looking back at those dark years 15 years ago, a full scale war is a possibility we, as a nation, should seriously consider."_

"_Our nation will try to remain neutral as it was 15 years ago, even so those days were one of the darkest for our small nation."_

"_And thus the Ministry of Defence are requesting anyone with flight experience to report to their nearest NRAF and NRN recruitment offices." _(Nilenian Royal Navy)

"_May God help us go through these difficult times."_

"_Commander in chief, King Philip the 2nd, Nilenian Kingdom, Royal Palace at the capital city of Iniapolis."_

"And so on and so on." The Colonel finished the letter.

Closing the letter and putting away his reading glasses he looked at the startled faces of the young lieutenants and the now mildly interested look on the major's face.

"It's not war yet so don't look so startled!" He scolded the pilots with a growl.

"We've got a job to do, war or no war!" He again stared at the pilot's facial expressions daring them to do react but not getting any response as they all remained perfectly silent, only major Pavel Blackovitz gave a small smile which he choose to ignore.

Clearing his throat the Colonel picked up a new file, the mission file.

"Okay now that we have cleared that out I'll continue with the rest of the mission briefing."

The rest of the briefing was normal and standard just like the academy.

Their flight, designated 'Watchdog Flight', would rendezvous with Texaco Zero-Zero-Five, a KC10 tanker and it's two escorting Saab JA37 Viggen fighters designated War Ace Zero-One and War Ace Zero-Two.

After they had been refuelled they would continue with their original flightplan and head straight for the Minella Airbase on the small island of Iolla, their new squadron's homebase.

Major Pavel Blackovitz, Watchdog Leader, would be the commanding officer for this flight flying his F16E.

Lieutenant Janet Deveraux would be Watchdog Zero-Two in her F16E while lieutenant Michael Frost would by Watchdog Zero-Three in his Mirage 2000E.

The mission would start at take off around16:00 hours and end with the arrival on Minella AFB around 23:30 if everything went smoothly.

"Okay for any more detailed flight information refer to your flight manuals."

The colonel said while pushing himself away from his desk.

"That was all, dismissed and god speed."

Watching the Lieutenants put down their pencils and leaving the briefing room he mentioned Major Blackovitz, who was checking some other papers before leaving, to join him.

The major looked up from his work with a questioning look.

"Pavel, a moment of your time please."

_22 September 2010/ Tripolia Airforce-base, Airstrip 2A, 16:00 hours._

The asphalt was shimmering as the bright afternoon son unleashed its hot and bright rays on the airbase.

The temperature was at least 30 degrees Celsius as three pilots walked towards their waiting aircraft, a Mirage 2000E and a pair of F16E's, standing outside on Airstrip 2A while glowing in the hot afternoon sun.

Pausing for a moment, they all synchronised their watches and briefly talked to the master-crew-chief, a old sergeant major responsible for their planes, before putting their flight-helmets on and moving towards their waiting aircraft.

Beside each fighter stood a member of the maintenance crew at attention waiting for the pilots.

Saluting the two mechanics standing next to his F16E Major Pavel Blackovitz grabbed the middle part of ladder and with two mighty hauls pulled himself towards the waiting cockpit of his F16.

With a final look over his shoulder at the distant buildings of the base, he had been stationed on for almost 10 years, Pavel pulled down his helmets sun visor and climbed into the cramped interior of his F16E.

The crewmember that had been waiting for him to settle in the ejectionseat, a tech sergeant, climbed towards him and started helping him to get strapped into the safety harness.

As the last belt of the harness clicked tight the sergeant gave a last pull at the safety harness, checking if it was secure, before patting his helmet indicating that Pavel was safely strapped in.

Pavel gave him a confirming nod.

The sergeant saluted him closing the canopy and retracting the ladder leaving him to the small confines of his fighter.

He went quickly over his pre-flight checklist, flipping the switches as he went through the various instruments and electronic systems: engine okay, radar on standby, damage display okay, targeting computer... after thirty seconds he was at the end of the list, everything seemed to be working, only one thing more.

Checking his weapon systems he noticed with satisfaction that everything appeared was lit up in the nice reassuring green colour. The computer verified that the Sidewinders and MAGIC rockets were all accounted for and were un-armed. He looked at his left at the waiting tech sergeant who had been visually checking his payload.

The sergeant looked up at him putting his thumb up indicating everything was in order.

Giving a salute to the tech sergeant, making it clear to the man it was also looking good from up in his cockpit, the sergeant waved and moved clear of the fully loaded fighter.

Waiting a few moments as the engines low howling had risen to a constant roaring sound Pavel turned on his radio.

"This is Watchdog Leader to watchdog flight, report ready status." Pavel spoke into his microphone as he briefly looked to his left and right at his wingmen's planes waiting for their confirmation.

"_Watchdog 0-2 reporting ready status, lead." _Came the cheerful reply of the left side F16, flown by 2nd lieutenant Janet "Comet" Deveraux.

Deveraux would never change so he didn't question her overly cheerful mood, perhaps it was a positive thing but then again he remembered the first day when he was paired with her as his wingman in the 22nd Tactical.

Looking briefly upwards to the clear blue sky he let go of a sigh.

A moment later the Mirage 2000, flown by 2nd lieutenant Michael "Dreamer" Frost, stationed at his right side also reported in: _"Watchdog 0-3 all systems are showing a green light."_

A lot more professional then he had acted at the briefing the Major thought, maybe this would be not so bad after all.

Turning his attention back to the remaining take-off procedures he raised the main tower..

"This is Watchdog flight leader to Tripolia Tower requesting clearance to depart to runway 2."

"_Copy Watchdog leader, you're cleared for take off on runway 2..."_ Came the voice of the air traffic controller and just as he was planning to switch to their flight frequency the controller hastily added:

"_Also the colonel wishes you the best."_

"Thanks Tripolia Tower we'll do our best, Watchdog flight leader out."

The old man had, after the briefing, asked him to take extreme care of this flight, and its pilots. That had actually surprised him knowing the Colonel as a man of little words he didn't question the orders and had simply nodded.

It wouldn't surprise him if something weird would happen in the near future.

A cheerful young girl, a kid who, if he wasn't in the cockpit, seemed to be dreaming, what would come next!?

One thing was certain: this would be his most interesting squadron, he was stationed in, ever.

Pushing his throttle slightly forward his fighter began taxiing towards the runway closely followed by Deveraux's F16 and Frost's Mirage.

_22 September 2010/ Tripolia Airforce-base, Runway 2, 16:05 hours, Watchdog 0-2._

Janet looked at the Major's F16, it's afterburners roaring at full power as the fighter lifted off, it was now her turn being number 2 in this flight.

Accelerating and hitting the afterburners simultaneously Janet felt her head and body sank deeply into her seat as the tremendous force of the Pratt and Whitney engine pushed the 17-ton fighter into the air.

When all this happened she felt exited about the prospect of joining a newly formed squadron, major Blackovitz and lieutenant Frost looked like people she could get along with just fine.

Also the added bonus of their new squadron being stationed at the most famous of NRAF airbases; Minella AFB made here day even more better then it had started.

While smiling broadly she looked down at the runway that got smaller and smaller as her F16 climbed to 1000 feet. The blue green camouflaged Mirage 2000 of Frost flickered clearly in the sun as he left the strip, making his way towards their rendezvous point at 10000 feet.

_22 September 2010/ 16:12 hours, Watchdog Flight._

The two F16 fighterplanes were already waiting as the Mirage 2000 manoeuvred itself to the left of the lead F16 of Major Blackovitz. Watchdog zero-two, Janet's plane, had taken the right making it a parade V Formation.

"_Watchdog zero three entering formation." _Frost replied through his microphone as he accelerated slightly to match the Majors speed while keeping a safe distance, it wouldn't look good on his service record if he died on his first day while going to his brand new assignment.

Opening his visor he looked at the dark blue F16 in front right position of the formation, calmly waiting for their heading orders. Even though he knew perfectly well where to head to, he had to follow Major Pavel Blackovitz's orders and remembering the serious face of the major during the short conversation, held before entering their planes, had made him sure not to piss him off. It wouldn't surprise him to see the major becoming his wingcommander or even worse: his squadron commander.

"_Roger that zero-three." _Major Blackovitz replied as he watched the blue and white Mirage speeding up on his left, matching his own speed. On the other side the F16E of Deveraux was doing the same. They had at least taught them how to fly properly in a tight formation at the academy.

"Watchdog lead to watchdog flight accelerate to 750 knots bearing three twenty, copy?"  
"Copy that lead."  
"Onwards to Minella AFB!" 

The Nilenian planes soared through the skies to their new home and to a very uncertain future.


	3. Chapter 02, Tides of Change

_'The Price of Freedom is to remain forever vigilant' _

**CHAPTER 2, TIDES OF CHANGE. **

_22 September 2010/ Texaco Flight, 21:15._

Texaco Tanker, flanked by War Ace zero-one and zero-two, made their way through the evening sky.

Almost totally invisible to the naked eye as they moved through the darkening evening sky over Nilenia the flashing green and red navigation lights at the tips of their wings and the lighted cockpits of the three aircraft were the only visible proof of their presence in the dark sky.

As darkness swept away the last remnants of light of that day the three aircraft waited for their rendezvous.

The first evening stars were showing up at the clear evening sky, making the planes stand out much better against the now dark blue sky which was a big plus for the refuel operation.

In a combat mission this would have perhaps been a disadvantage but Corporal De Vries, who was waiting for the last flight positioned at the back of the KC 10, was actually quite grateful for the little light that the stars were giving him. Watching through the small glass turret at the back of KC10 Tanker he was the man responsible for the mid-air refuelling controls and even though he had the comfort of night vision goggles Corporal De Vries never had enjoyed night refuelling missions before.

Refuelling was a delicate and dangerous operation demanding the utmost concentration of both him, the KC10's pilot and the pilot of the aircraft that was being refuelled. And being in total dark it was even more difficult then during daytime, even with the goggles. The night vision goggles, now lying next to his small seat, were also a pain to his sleepy eyes but that was purely psychological. Even so he didn't complained to much about the goggles, even though he didn't showed it he was grateful having them, it made the job a whole lot safer but if he had to chose between day and night mission, day would be have been definitely it.

Watching the two escorting Viggens making a lazy roll, disappearing under the KC 10's left wing before showing back up at the right wing it came to him that flying a fighter was one of the greatest things around.

Not that he would ever get the change, still without him and his comrades in the Tanker those fighters couldn't remain airborne. He might be a small cog in the great NRAF machine but his job was just as important as those jet boys De Vries though smiling. _Life maybe wasn't so bad after all._

After a few minutes of just gazing at the stars he stretched and yawned, it was almost time for the last operation, and he was feeling glad to go back to base.

Refuelling several reconnaissance and patrol aircraft and, at the end of this shift, even a pair of Marine NH90 helicopters he thought he deserved a good night's sleep back at home.

Checking his digital watch it was around 21:15, only one more flight left to go De Vries noticed with some relieve as he turned his eyes from the watch to the flight notepad which he had positioned on his left leg.

Only one flight more tonight and then it was good night for him.

Looking at the two JA37 Viggens as they made another turn, now moving above the KC-10, the corporal was awakened out of his thoughts about a nice soft bed and turned his to the intercom-system as it crackled to live:

_"Pilot to refuelling controller, Watchdog flight approaching at 8 o'clock, change frequencies to one-three-seven."_

"Copy that sir!" Corporal De Vries replied as he watched from his cramped position at his lower left, and sure enough the navigation lights of three fighters were clearly visible against the dark clouds as they quickly closed in to their slightly higher position.

With a flip of the switch he changed the radio frequency so that he could listen, and communicate, to the incoming fighterpilots and his own crew for this final refuel operation this night.

His Commander, Captain Kursten was just informing Watchdog leader of their current location, speed and altitude as he pushed a button that would lower the refuelling rod with the drogue attached to it.

After a few minutes of messages and acknowledgements being sent back and forth to the incoming flight and the Tanker he identified the three fighters as being a Mirage 2000 and two F16's.

With a few calculations he figured that the Mirage would require 7800 pounds of fuel while the F16's probably would need around 7500 pounds.

The lead F16 pilot looked up at his higher position positioning the F16 in a parallel course with Texaco Zero One's extended fuel rod.

"Watchdog Flight Leader to Texaco Zero-One we could use a drink, if you still have some cool beer left."

"Roger that Watchdog Leader, this round is on me." Corporal De Vries replied with a dry smile while checking the remaining fuel reserves, more then enough. The lead F16 began its careful approach and coupled with the drogue with a smooth click.

"Link established, beginning transfer."

Corporal De Vries confirmed as he flipped a switch starting the pumping machines and starting the fuel transfer.

_22 September 2010/ Watchdog Zero-Three, 21:25._

Lieutenant Frost looked with growing interest as Major Pavel Blackovitz, with one smooth move, linked up his F16E with tanker Texaco Zero One.

It was clear the major was a real pro coupling his F16 with such smooth moves, without any help or guidance of the refuel controller onboard the KC-10 required a lot of training and a steady hand.

Looking a bit lower Michael saw that also Janet was looking at the major, she would be the second one to refuel when the major was finished.

Michael, being the last to be refuelled, took a look at the clear evening sky.

The only traffic was the KC 10, its Viggen escort and their own flight.

The only other company this night was provided by the evening stars that shone brightly as his Mirage 2000 moved with a slow 290 knots through the sky.

The two escorting Viggens were making slow circles around their flight as they refuelled, providing cover in case someone was planning intercept them, something that was very unlikely.

The JA37 Viggen had many things in common with his own Mirage Michael thought as he looked at the closest Viggen shape and configuration. Its pilot also was looking at him, briefly waving at him as he noticed Michael staring at his fighter.

He smiled and gave a salute back looking as the same delta shaped aircraft, as his Mirage, disappeared behind the bulky shape of the KC-10 Tanker. The radio starting bleeping, it was his turn to refuel.

_22 September 2010/ Texaco Flight, Cockpit KC-10 Texaco Zero-One, 21:30._

_"This is Texaco, we're heading back to base Watchdog Lead, it was a pleasure doing business with you."_

Captain Kursten grunted softly, turning a page of his paperback western he had been reading for the last half hour. His co pilot, 1st lieutenant Hugh, was doing the flying, and talking for that matter, at the moment.

They had taking turns every hour, and after this operation it was his turn to fly the plane back to base.

The refuelling had went smoother then he initially had thought possible turning another page of the paperback.

Most of his crew and possible also Watchdog's pilots, should have been quite tired by now, flying for several hours always took his toll and meant that refuelling could take more time as concentration was lower.

But looking at the time and smoothness of the operation it was just like they had just started the day, fresh and eager.

He silently felt proud of his crew, he had trained them well these past months.

Captain Kursten put down his western and looked in the rear mirror that was hanging outside on his left.

Looking in the rear mirror, the last of Watchdog flight, a Mirage, callsign Watchdog Zero-Three, uncoupled itself from the refuel drogue.

He again grunted, it was just almost like the old days back when he was still in the ISAF.

Well trained, and motivated pilots and also a just cause.

It was a shame the ISAF had disbanded, it could have done so many good things these past years Captain Kursten thought as the Mirage 2000 made a left roll joining the rest of his flight at twelve o'clock.

Veering of to the North, to Minella AFB.

Kursten listened at his co pilot talking to Watchdog leader.

"_Copy that Texaco, thanks for the fuel. I won't be surprised to see you again."_

"Watchdog Flight signing off." Watchdog Leader answered while shaking his wings briefly, waving them goodbye, before making a sharp turn leading the rest of his flight 20 degrees to the left, accelerating away to the North.

Smiling briefly at this greeting, he took the controls over from his co-pilot.

It differed not even that much from the ISAF after all, there were still good pilots and a just cause around.

Turning the controls slightly to the right, the massive bulk of the KC-10, flanked with its two small nimble fighter escorts, made a slow turn towards the West and started heading back to home.

_23 September 2010/ Minella AFB, Iolla._

_Positioned on the most Northern Islands of the Nilenian Island group the NRAF base Minella was always one of the first military installations that had to slow down any enemy invaders. _

_Lying at the footstep of the two bickering superpowers Osea and Yuktobania on a island in the Ceres Ocean the base was the first line of defence for the Small Island group._

_Lying on the small island called Iolla the construction of the NRAF Airforce base had began almost five decades ago right after the foundation of the Nilenian Kingdom._

_Before the construction of one of the first NRAF base a small fishing community had mostly inhabited the island of Iolla, living of what the Ceres Ocean provided. _

_The small community expanded as the families of the pilots and base personnel came living at the base, the population and economy grew, attracting even more people to the small island, so the small village grew and grew to what it was today, a city with over 75000 souls. _

_The airbase itself also grew through the following years, getting additional concrete runways replacing the grass strips and more bunkers to house the new fightercraft that were stationed on the small island._

_Also the Nilenian Royal Navy made it a regular stop and refuelling point for its passing patrol vessel._

_Today the sub tropical island of Iolla was a thriving and rather important place for the Nilenian Kingdom's defence and vastly growing economy. _

_Making it even more a likely target for any possible future attack._

Michael walked through the streets of what he once called his hometown, he hadn't been back for almost decade. Since his mother past away, almost 10 years ago in a car crash, he had been living with his aunt and uncle on the main island of Utria.

Straightening his blue airforce cap he looked at high rise of the city.

The city had certainly grown since the last time he had been walking through these streets he silently concluded. Watching several playing and cheering children running past him on their way to school he felt somewhat glad he was back, it was a shame that war was glowing on the horizon.

He remembered the briefing yesterday it was clear that the country was preparing for its defence. It was only the question who would fire the first shot. Times were changing very rapidly.

At least the fresh sea air on the other hand hadn't changed, it was still the same like it was almost 10 years ago.

He remembered that his father had once told him, when they had been walking on the beach on a day off, that the sea was one of the most beautiful things there were. After saying that his father had looked down at him with a big smile. It is just as beautiful up there he had added pointing his left-hand skywards.

They had all looked up at the small clouds that slowly drifted by against the clear blue summer sky.

His father had run his other hand through Michael's short brown hair and asked him if he also found it beautiful.

His mother had also looked down at him and said with a smile that he was still to young to understand the concept of beauty yet.

Looking from his mother back to his father not knowing what to say, Michael had nodded wildly to both of them wanting to please both his dad and mom.

They had smiled warmly at him, a knowing twinkle in their eyes, as they both took one of his hands and slowly walked over the gold sand.

Michael let go of a small sigh as he watched the waves smashing and breaking against the shoreline, he hadn't thought about his father and mother for a long time that way. It was one of the few happy memories he had left of them being together.

A F16 roared over, it's landing gear extracted, probably making its final approach Michael mused as he followed the dark blue fighter until it disappeared behind some buildings.

Shivering slightly a cold breeze caught him by surprise, almost blowing his cap from his head.

Just able to catch it as it tried to drift away Michael put it, along with his hands, in the warm pockets of his uniform and headed back to his old new home, Minella AFB.

_23 September 2010, 84-22nd Leader - Osean Airspace._

The Osean Air Defence would by now have spotted their flight the 84th 22nd Squadron Leader thought as he turned the necessary switches that would arm the weaponry of his F14.

His BN, only moments ago, reported a strong enemy radar source probably a ground based radar station he had concluded.

Also the intercepted communications of the Sand Island Air Defences made it clear that they would get some company soon.

Moving his head slowly from side to side the 12 fighters and bombers, of whom his flight consisted, were flying in a perfect and well disciplined formation. _After 15 years it was finally pay back time_

"_Contacts sir! Heading two-two-one, range 6 miles, altitude 4000 miles and climbing."_ His BN spoke through the intercom.

Tapping his microphone twice to confirm that he had received the message he looked at the screen in front of him, new red grey contacts were appearing on his targeting radar screen. The target computer identified them as unknown targets, they were currently to far away to make a positive ID.

_"Seems that a enemy unit was already airborne." _The BN added with a slightly panicking voice.

He would have to talk to the man when they were back at base he thought looking at the targeting radar.

On the far edge at least a dozen contacts were moving in their direction. It could only be the enemy, no other friendly units were currently in his designated sector. He shook his head.

_No matter it was but a minor change in plans. _

He grinned, the adrenaline started pumping through his body, he fastened his oxygen mask and looked at the Head Ups Display -or HUD- in front of him selecting a sidewinder missile.

Only a few minutes more.

_23 September 2010, AWACS, Patrolling the Ceres Sea, early morning._

As the sun began rising over the distant horizon a large grey plane made its slow way through the early morning skies.

The large grey aircraft, a NRAF Boeing 767 was weird sign to see.

Carrying a large slowly turning saucerlike radar antenna, which was connected to the delicate scanning and analysis equipment located in its belly, the plane looked almost surreal as it slowly moved through the skies.

The rising sun's early morning rays glinted on its slowly rotating saucer radar.

Inside the men and woman of the Nilenian Air and Ground Operations, or better known as the Eyes in the Sky, used this Boeing 767 to keep a close eye on all the airtraffic in and around Nilenian controlled space.

It could be also used, during time of war or conflict, as a flying command and operations post.

Not that they had used the plane for actual operations a young airforce corporal thought as she sipped from her coffee.

The day was just as normal as the day before the young female corporal though

Looking kind of bored while sipping her hot coffee she watched at the large green radarscreen in front of her.

The radar was showing the commercial traffic and some patrolling fighter as the made there way to their destinations.

The oh so normal routine that was her life she thought while looking with little interest at contact CTO 321, a Osean Federation Commercial Tanker.

This day she was not even in direct contact with any of the patrol fighters so she could only watch as the few blips went back and forth as the radar cursor made another slow turn on her radar screen.

Looking at her left a private called Saratov, at least that stood on his ID card, was in conversation with a patrol flight while at her right another NAGO corporal, Sarah a old friend, was talking to Texaco Flight, a refuelling tanker from RustMill AFB.

Lucky bastards she thought while rubbing her eyes trying to not fall in sleep before turning her concentration back to her own screen. A sudden blip, a very faint contact just fainted on the green coloured screen as the cursor began a new slow turn.

"What was that?" She softly whispered, putting her coffee away.

A malfunction in the electronic systems or a unknown contact?

Biting her lip softly she watched the cursor, urging it silently to go faster, as it made another turn towards the most upper part of her radarscreen. She almost yelled in excitement as the cursor passed the spot where the earlier possible contact, or computer glitch, had been. Several dozens of contacts were clearly visible now, the target analysis computer identified them as unknown bogeys.

Putting her left hand up she started waving at her commander mentioning him to join her.

She closely followed the bogies as they moved along the border.

"What is it corporal?" The sergeant major, her superior, asked while looking over her shoulder at the radar-screen.

"Unknown bogies just along the border sir!" She briskly said while pointing at the various contacts, with the unknown bogey signs attached to them, heading straight towards the Osean mainland.

"I thought you should know sir." She added as the sergeant who was totally focused at the contacts on her screen. Chewing on a pencil the major tried to make some sense of what was happening on the screen.

_The unidentified contacts were flying right over the demilitarised zone, a no flying zone for almost 8 years!_

"They can't be civilian and they can't be Osean looking at their projected courses..." she heard him mumble under his breath as the contacts continued their way towards Osea Controlled airspace.

"Then they must be coming from Mersjka Air base..." He stopped mumbling in himself as the full extend of his conclusion hit him, the major quickly began speaking into his microphone.

Watching the sergeant whispering through his headset, a worried expression on his face, she turned her eyes back at the contacts on her screen. She felt frightened and exited simultaneously, one thing was certain this wouldn't be such a boring day after all.

_23 September 2010, Barracks-104th Squadron, early in the morning._

Smashing her clenched hand repeatedly on the buzzing alarm clock Janet clouded mind urged her to go back to that beautiful dream. _Why wouldn't that ssssstupid alarm clock STOP! _She muttered sleepily while retracting her arm back into the warm confines of the cocoon she had carefully made of her bed sheets.

**Triiiiiii! Triiiiiii! Triiiiii... **_That annoying ALARM clock from HELL simply wouldn't stop ringing! _Putting the pillow of her head she closed her weary eyes, trying to get that ringing noise out of her head.  
What had she done to deserve this cruel fate! 

She had been a good and nice girl when they had landed yesterday late in the evening at Minella AFB.

Shaking hands with the welcoming committee and smiling graciously at the base commander before finally getting to bed at 23:30. What had she been tired...

It was simply not fair! 

Turning around, away from the clock she made up her mind. She would get that sleep one way or the other.

Her hopes of going back to that beautiful dream faded quickly away as the warmth, of her snug cosy cocoon, were shattered by a sudden familiar voice that yelled very close to her and the sheets were pulled away.

"Rise and shine LIEUTENANT SLEEPYHEAD!" Major Pavel Blackovitz yelled with an evil grin on his face while pulling away the sheets of the young Lieutenants bed.

The Lieutenant, now completely awake was wearing only a tanktop plus a pair of marine shorts.

Looking startled for a moment, still holding her cushion above her head, she blinked her eyes twice before beginning to scream.

"Pervert!" Janet yelled at the now slightly startled looking Major tossing her pillow at his face. She silently grinned at the startled expression of the Major as the pillow hit him.

So he wasn't such an emotionless bastard after all. She almost felt sorry for the Major as he stood there.

But it was his fault for waking her up at this time so she didn't feel that sorry.

She almost had to laugh as she watched him stuttering trying to reply but then the wailing sound of the air alarm sirens outside caught her attention.

_Wasn't that the sound she had heard earlier?_

Planning to ask the major about it the intercom crackled to live:

_**"SCRAMBLE! SCRAMBLE! ALL PILOTS TO THEIR FIGHTERS! SCRAMBLE... **_

So that explained why the air alarm was wailing, it also explained why Pavel, Major Blackovitz, had woken her. Janet was a notorious deep sleeper and she knew it, putting her flight suit on and grabbing her helmet hiding her now bright red face. She felt so ashamed.

Following the major she made a mental note to apologise as soon as possible.

_23 September 2010, 84-22nd Leader - Osean Airspace._

_"Targets identified... three F5's and a F4 phantom II... other contacts remain below the clouds... probably also F5's." _Strike 2 voice boomed through the radio.

Only F5's and one Phantom! This would simply be to easy the Strike leader thought somewhat disappointed.

He swiftly ordered his F14 escorts to point position, protecting the slower bombers, no use giving them a chance to hit the bombers.

_"Enemy at four o'clock lead." _Strike three spoke up.

Looking at his left the BN of strike 3's F14 mentioned towards several glittering reflections that were just below them.

They must be a training squadron or something similar as the trainees stayed low while three F5's and the F4 Phantom were probably their instructors.

A easy kill, a nice training for the things to come.

Changing his frequency so that his whole strike wing could hear him he casually stated.

"This is 84-92nd leader to all 84-92nd units proceed as planned."

_23 September 2010, Phoenix Flight - Nilenian Airspace._

"_Intense fighting on the shoreline Phoenix Leader."_ Michael overheard a controller of NAGO 01, or Eye in the Sky, saying to the Major.

Their wing, two F16's and two Mirages were only one of the many currently patrolling the sky.

And looking at the clear blue sky it seemed that they wouldn't be in the front line just yet.

The Yuktobanian fighters and bombers seemed content enough to just slug it out against the Osean fighters.

Their own hastily scrambled squadrons were simply watching the fight from very far away, and deep inside of their own side border, no need to provoke them the major had said as they had run towards their waiting fighters.

Listening to the radio traffic it was clear that Eye in the Sky was also in direct communication with ground and navy units. Probably battle-group Yiroko, a few of his old training squadron members were stationed on it. He had received a letter from Johny a few days ago telling that the carrier Yiroko would be in town so they could all meet up and have a drink and remember the old days.

But looking at the activities on the other side of the border the Yiroko Carrier Group, and their own Airbase also for that matter, wouldn't be receiving any leave soon. They were in the brink of conflict and that probably meant to be on action stations all the time 24/7.

Rolling his fighter to the left following the lead fighter he felt glad that they couldn't see any of the fighting, that privilege was only reserved for a couple of A6's with specialist equipment that were flying several kilometres in front of them.

Even so they could overhear the radio-chatter of the two opposing forces and that was more then enough to know that the war had started between the two superpowers.

How long would it take before they would join in the conflict?

_23 September 2010, Wardog Leader - 106th TF Squadron.- Cape Landers, 11:09 hours._

"Give me a break, I'm babysitting nuggets up here." Captain Bartlett mumbled through the intercom of his F4 Phantom as the radio started beeping. Watching the captain through his camera Albert Genette was again surprised by the sharp remarks the captain used.

That was the overall way the captain was running his squadron, the 106th, and it was very different then any other airforce unit he knew off.

But then again wasn't he only here for this extraordinary squadron leader and his squadron?

Pointing his camera towards a F5 that was slowly sliding over his position at the back of the Phantom he maintained quite and listened carefully what would happen next.

Captain Jack Bartlett flipped the radio switch and a voice, Albert recognised as the air-traffic-controller of Sand Island Base, came through.

_"Command to Wardog squadron... we've got inbound targets, aircraft type unknown."_

Targets? Turning the viewer back to the captain who was sitting in front of the double seat F4 fighter Albert felt his heartbeat slightly rising.

_"You're the closest fighters we've got to intercept the bogeys."_

"They must be joking." The captain softly mumbled under his breath before ordering most of Wardog flight wing to head below the clouds leaving himself and three instructing F5's to head in first.

"Hold tight on your stomach back there." The captain muttered through the intercom to Albert Genette.

_Oh boy... _Albert quickly put away his camera... he knew what this meant.

The F4 Phantom made a 360 degrees roll and dove down towards the three waiting F5's.

No target drones or blanks this time, it was sink or swim Captain Bartlett thought as he headed his flight towards the unknown bandits.

_23 September 2010, Minella AFB, Minella Island, 13:00 hours._

What a_... slaughter... _Major Blackovitz thought as he disembarked from his F16.

They had patrolled the skies for 2 hours and had closely monitored the communications of the dogfights over Sand Island. Listening to those intense communications, either being screams of victories or despair and death, it was clear a lot of good pilots had died in those few hours.

He wondered if any of his old friends, from back 15 years ago, would have been fighting there.

_"Major!"_

Jumping down from the extended ladder he looked towards the other F16 at his left, 2nd lieutenant Deveraux was running towards him.

Her dark hair was moving graciously in the wind.

He quickly straightened his face, what was he thinking, remembering the stint she had pulled on him earlier this morning.

Behind her Frost and captain Grafton, one of his new appointed (senior) pilots, were also moving towards his position after they had briefly talked to a waiting crew-chief.

"Major...?"

Looking down at the slightly heaving lieutenant, who was now standing in front of him, her arms were holding her flight helmet tightly against her chest.

She was looking up at him with two big teary eyes, which she quickly rubbed dry.

What was it with that teary stare? 

"I'm sorry Major..." She said softly with a bright smile.

"About this morning sir." She added quickly seeing the Majors not understanding expression.

She let go of the helmet and extended her left hand.

"Oh that... let's just forget about that lieutenant." Pavel Blackovitz answered shaking the extended hand of the lieutenant who still was smiling broadly.

"Thanks sir!"

"_The Mirage 2000 is a good plane but I personally like my own MIG 23 Flogger..._ Pavel overheard the captain saying to the lieutenant as they came near his F16.

"_Ah yes sir but..."_

Listening as Lieutenant Frost made his own defence of his plane of choice he looked at his new second in command.

Captain Kenneth Grafton was a normal looking middle-aged man with brown hair and, perhaps to overcome his small stature, a large moustache.

Pavel almost smiled about that thought but then remembered the fight they had monitored only moments ago, and looked at the captain with a more measuring stare.

Being the only senior officer the captain would be his best choice for second in command.

Also a big bonus was that the captain, or so he had read in the personal file, was a ace pilot for the ground forces, a true specialist in the air to ground attack roles.

Something his rookie pilots might use in the very near future looking at that aerial engagement over Sand Island.

Still he had only spoken with the captain for a few minutes but looking at how he had handled his position as second in command during this flight he shouldn't feel bothered.

Pondering about this he watched the two younger pilots as they eagerly talked about what the engagement at Sand Island meant. Seeing his fair share of friends, and enemies, fried in their own cockpits screaming for help, their aircraft braking up he really hoped that those things would not happen to these kids.

Pavel followed his pilots towards the waiting jeep.

Tides were changing... and he really didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad...


	4. Chapter 03, Times of War

_A small technical note about the previous chapter that I forgot to add._

_The KC10 Tanker used by the NRAF (Nilenian Royal AirForce) uses a multi usable tank system. _

In the case of chapter 2 the KC10, Texaco 01, uses a boom system to refuel the two F16's and Mirage 2000 while for the NH90 marine helicopters it uses a probe system with a chute.

This is because of the NH90 helicopter rotorsspan making refuelling with the boom system impossible. For that matter any helicopter which wants to refuel in mid air needs the addition of a refuelling rod.

_For this two-side approach refuel system the tanker has two extendible probes, one in each wing while the refuelling boom is located in the tail section of the plane._

_Many 'land' based fighters use the boom as a means to refuel while navy fighters use the chute/probe system, _

'_The only certainty in life is death.'_

**CHAPTER 3, TIMES OF WAR.**

_25th September 13:30 hours._

Forty truck were making their way through the barren and desolate plains of the Nilenian mainland. The road they were using lead to the small harbour-town of Nebrask, a small town with little to no importance if it not was the only city with a small ferry service to Minella, the final destination of this supply convoy.

Five of the trucks were carrying soldiers, fuel, food and a kitchen to keep the convoy moving.

Two others carried anti aircraft guns and the remaining vehicles carried much needed parts, ammunition and supplies for the Airforce base that was currently 120 kilometres away.

The hardened road, if it could be called that, were actually not more then two lanes of car tracks that were following the golfing coastline of the island. The hard wind this clear, hot sunny day had deposited sand of the beaches on the already lousy road slowing the convoy speed to a staggering pace of 40 kph.

Some of the men sitting in the rear vehicles cursed the lack of a good railroad connection or concrete road. Sand, loosened by the tracks of the heavy vehicles, made thick dust clouds clouding the road ahead and making it difficult to breath. If only their had been a railroad to use then they could all have comfortably been transported to the staging area but someone at the Ministry of Transportation never had found it necessary to make the funds available.

The first indications that something was going terribly wrong was when a yell from the driver in the front truck made the gunner of the 25mm Rarden four barrelled antiaircraft gun look skywards. Two quickly approaching black spots on the horizon were clearly heading their way with a high speed. Picking up his binoculars he noticed a vapour trail in front of the planes. His mind registered it as a incoming missile, he tried to shout to the driver to leave the road but it was already to late. Half a second after him registering the incoming missile the Mach 4 capable Maverick air to ground missile slammed into the truck killing him and the other occupants in a shattering explosion that lifted the twisted remnants of the truck in the air before smashing it aside.

The following truck and its crew were also instantly killed by the shock wave that came from the explosion that destroyed the lead vehicle. The truck was completely shredded to thousands of metal pieces. Pieces that propelled themselves to the other trucks.

The driver of the rear vehicle, carrying the sole surviving Anti Aircraft gun, saved his vehicle and the four men guncrew by acting very swiftly. Hearing the yell from the forward driver through his radio he steered his truck to a hard left, away from the convoy and drove into a dried up creekbed.

The missile that was headed for his vehicle slammed into the truck in front of him, momentarily blinding him and the gun crew as they tried to figure out what was happening.

Major Steiner looked at the small image display in front of him as the Maverick missile slammed onto the front vehicle. He almost could have sworn that he saw the startled face of the gunner on the screen, the realisation of his imminent death clearly on his face. But as the missile impacted the camera view went black so he couldn't be sure. He felt remorse at the death he was bringing on these men but being a professional officer he knew what it meant to follow orders even if he didn't like it. He wiped the sweat from his eyes and selected his cannon and ordered his wingmen to stay close as he started his attack run.

The two SU 27 Flankers made a slow turn so that they could make a fly over the convoy as it desperately tried to get away from the road. Pressing the button on his control stick the vibration of the rotating 30mm cannon could be felt through the plane as it unleashed a stream of 30 millimetre grenades into the convoy.

The first grenades sliced through the third truck and ricocheted on the hard ground before slinging onto the forth truck exploding with dull thuds.

Flying with 350 knots over the convoy the 30mm grenades of the SU27 cannon were wrecking havoc on the trucks. It was really reckless to send a convoy so poorly protected through such a desolated piece of land the major thought with a bitter grimness as another truck exploded in a large fireball as several grenades exploded in it, destroying its cargo, probably ammunition, looking at the plume.

He had really been surprised that his ECM (Electronic Counter Measures) hadn't started bleeping on his way to Nilenian Airspace, warning him for any enemy radar and SAM installations, it was clear that they weren't prepared for war... yet.

Just as he was planning to order his wingmen to start his run the other SU 27 began swaggering, a stream of grenades, originating from the convoy, was slicing through its left wing.

The last remaining anti aircraft gun had begun its fire resolution, shooting bursts of 25mm bullets in rapid speed at the two assault aircraft.

He cursed silently as he slammed his stick to the right and pushing the throttle to full speed. His SU 27 made a sharp turn and got clear of the menacing cannon. He saw Captain Vinokorov's SU 27 slamming into the ground with a sickening smack only moments later. His second in command was dead and there was nothing he could do about it, slamming his gloved fist on the control panel in frustration, he moved his fighter back to home. The first casualty of this pointless conflict he thought silently cursing the politicians and officials who had started this.

The commander, a old veteran, looked at the remnants of his supply convoy as it again started slowly heading towards the town of Nebrask. Eight trucks had been either destroyed or were damaged beyond repair. The aerial assault had killed twelve of his men while four others had been wounded.

There had actually been five wounded soldiers but he had shot one through the head. The boy, probably just 18 years old, was covered in heavy burn wounds, and was screaming and crying urging him to stop the pain. Looking at the medic who was shaking his head, indicating he couldn't do anything more, he had loosened his old Colt M1911 from his belt and had shot a bullet right through the mutilated head of the screaming and begging young man. The body shivered only one time more, before it finally stopped moving.

Putting away the gun the medic put a blanket over the now dead soldier.

Radioing HQ first of their situation he had held a small ceremony before burying the dead. Looking at the 12 helmets and dog tags, marking the graves, he looked with a grim realisation at the Northern horizon... war had finally arrived at Nilenia and nothing could change that now... nothing.

_25th September 15:30 hours Minella AFB._

The guards at the main gate looked even more grimmer then usual, a fact that almost seemed impossible, Michael was thinking with a laugh as he lowered his side window to give the waiting guard his ID pass.

Looking at the sentry, as he went through Michael's papers, it was clear that if you didn't have any business here you should get lost. At least if you didn't have a wish to die prematurely that was Michael thought with a sad smile.

He had been called back to base only a thirty minutes ago. When entering a bar it became clear that war had erupted. The news was only talking about attacks on military convoys and installation. So he quickly ordered a beer and looked with amazement at the images of burning vehicles and dead soldiers while interviews were held with retired officers and analists at the background. The newscaster, a young female with short black hair suddenly broke in reporting that the news station would be going live to the Ministry of Defence where the minister of defence would release a statement to the press.

The view of the Minister of Defence was one of a tired man as he explained to the gathered press what was happening. In short it meant that the Yuktobanian Embassy had sent a letter declaring war on the nation for its open and continuing military activity against the Yuktobanian minority on the islands.

He had left his beer untouched and had quickly left the bar, it was clear he had to get back to the base.

And here he was as Michael again looked at the guards at the main gate.

Wearing a thick kevlar bullet-proof-combatvest over their normal issue blue uniforms and a kevlar Mark II combat helmet compared to the normal light blue beret they looked really imposing.

Casually slung around their shoulder was a FN-Herstal P90 light assault riffle which added a nice extra touch of flavour to the already grim atmosphere over the city.

Whistling softly the tune of a song that was playing on his radio Michael looked over the clear blue Ceres Ocean while waiting for the guard to return his papers.

The huge soldier that was checking the papers was now giving him a final stern look, like he didn't trust the papers. It was also very likely that he simply didn't like pilots.

"Everything seems to be in order." He grumbled, sounding somewhat disappointed, before giving them back.

Waving briefly to his colleague in the guardhouse the gate opened.

"Have a nice day sir." The guard said while waving him to move along.

Changing gears Michael nodded briefly to the soldier and quickly drove past the guardhouse and into the base.

_26th September 06:00 hours Ceres Ocean. _

The RNV 17 Vigo, a Swordfish class attack submarine, had been shadowing a large Yuktobanian Taskforce force for the past few days now and again this one seemed to be heading straight for the Osean Federation. They had ventured quite deep into the demilitarised zone but then again weren't they at war? The captain mused as he looked through the periscope at the shapes of the various warships on the horizon. They hadn't been noticed yet and that was almost a miracle the captain thought as he watched a P3 Orion flying towards, what he believed to be Osean controlled territory. That was probably the only thing that had saved them this day.

The Yuktobanians had only eyes for their sworn archenemies, the Oseans, and had forgotten to look at the small insignificant Nilenian Navy they had declared war against only 36 hours ago. Something he was very grateful for looking at the various submarine hunters, P3 orions and helicopters as they headed towards the north, checking for any enemy submarine. If they were heading this way he along with his crew would be surely noticed.that they hadn't noticed his little submarine spying on their every move.

His second in command was waiting patiently as he let go of the view of the warships and turned his attention back to the control centre of his submarine.

"Sir?" His XO was whispering, all noise should be kept to a limit, "Command has send a direct laser coded message to us." He continued with a soft voice giving the captain the piece of paper.

"Has it been decoded?" He asked softly to his XO as he opened the paper.

"No sir... it is for your eyes only sir." The lieutenant answered hesitantly.

The captain nodded putting the piece of paper in his breast pocket, he needed to decode this as soon as possible.

Looking at his XO the captain put on his cap. "You have the bridge lieutenant, I'll be in my quarters."

"Aye sir." The lieutenants answered watching the captain as he disappeared through the hatch leading to the quarters. Taking his own cap off and looking through the periscope at the distant silhouettes of the enemy warships he was feeling a bit intimidated. The close proximity of those Yuktobanian warships really showed how dangerous their spying and monitoring job was. One loud noise, one destroyer captain sending a helicopter with sonar their way could easily mean their watery death in this steel coffin they called their home. He remembered a row he had with his wife as he had told her that he would be entering the submarine service... he hadn't spoken to her since... what was it... 5 days now?

He made a promise to himself to send her a letter as soon as he got back to base. Watching another frigate passing by at the far horizon he muttered a small prayer. _God please let me get through this one alive..._

His XO might still be a little green behind the ears but Captain Pietrov thought he would do just fine as he sat down behind his small desk in his cabin. The desk almost filled half of his chamber. But it was still quite big compared to a normal bunk of a normal crewmember. He had an extendable bed that now was lifted in the wall, a desk, two chairs and a small closet! A real luxury apartment he thought as he picked up the paper from his pocket and began deciphering it.

After a few minutes of deciphering the complex code he read the now decoded message.

After reading captain Pietrov reread it to make sure that he wasn't making this up. Shaking his head in disbelieve he picked up his cap and put away the letter. Closing the door to his cramped quarters he thought about the new mission orders as he started walking to the tactical room. Looking one more time at the letter in his hand he made sure he had understood the words.

"To RNV 17 Vigo, Captain Pietrov commanding. New heading 320, 4N by 51E. Report to Osean naval Commander at this position. Start negotiations for corporation immediately. Good luck. Admiral Fitzpatrik, 3rd fleet signing off."

Playing a diplomat...if he could get his ship through captain Pietrov thought with a grin as he walked to his XO.

This was going to be one of the toughest missions he had ever participated in.

_26th September 11:00 hours Minella AFB._

"SCRAMBLE! SCRAMBLE!"

The base was in a full allert, maintainance crews, pilots and other base personell were scrambling towards their battlestations. Weapons and fuel trucks raced back and forth loading up various waiting fighters while other fighters were already rolling towards their starting positions. Their howling engines almost obscured the yells from crewchiefs and pilots alike.

A large body of enemy fighters and bombers were heading in their direction.

"Go get them kid!" The crewchief yelled as he lowered the canopy and clearing the boarding ladder from the Mirage fighter. Another crewmember kicked away the blocks in front of the fighters wheels and with a thumb ups sign indicated that he could head out. Opening the throthle the fighter began rolling and followed a F16J as it taxied towards the tackoff strips.

"This is the tower to all fighters" A loud voice came through the standard operating frequency.

"Enemy forces advancing from the North, altitude 20000 speed 500, you're orders are to engage and stop the intruders at all costs!"

The loud voice was replaced by several others as wingcommanders and squadron leaders began issuing their seperate rendezvouz coordinates. It was total chaos as the Mirage slowly lifted off from the concrete on to the busy sky.

At least they had a clear defined target and goal this day. Operations had been intensified since yesterday, the day that the War began but it was not clear what they would have to do, would the Yuktobanions cary out their threats? It was clear now that they did!

With a last glanze at the base far below Michael concentrated on his instruments... it would be his first fight soon... very soon.

_Summery next chapter: Chapter 4, Time to Fight._

_A large airial engagement over Minella AFB will put the pilots of the 12th squadron in a live or death situation. Outnumbered and outgunned the pilots of the 12th Fighter Squadron need every bit of skill and luck to survive the onslaught. If they fail they will not have a home to return to. _

_Death is always close. _

(Reviews needed to see if everything is in order)


	5. Chapter 04, Time to Fight

'_Sink or swim.'_

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Chapter 4, Time to Fight.**

**26th September -11:03 hours, Watchdog 5, Minella Airspace.**

"_This is Turtle Leader I'm going down! I'm going down!" _AMirage 2000 was falling at the horizon, its left wing on fire as it plummited to the dark sea below.

"_Captain... Captain!?" _A panicking voice broke through the radio frequency before being cut off be a other voice which sounded much more in control.

"_This is Turtle 2! Watch you're six Turtle 3! Enemy SU35 on your tail!"_

"_I can't shake him! I can't shake him!"_ The panicky voice yelled as the pilot recognised the dangerous possition he was in. Before any of his comrades could get to his fighter it exploded in a large ball of fire, the pilot didn't had time to eject. Only a loud scream echoed through the radio as the cockpit was momentarily engulfed by the flames before breaking apart.

As soon as the message faded it was replaced by many others messages and yells ranging from either panick and screams to orders and victory yells.

So this was what it was all about Michael thought as he manouvred his fighter to their rendezvous point. It wouldn't be long before they would be themselves at the front line.

Missiles, bullets and grenades cut through the crowded skies as fighters of both sides tried to get the upper hand in the conflict. The sky over Minella AFB was litterly clouded with fighters and bombers fighting for their very survical. In matter of minutes whole fighterwings and other suporting craft were destroyed. In most cases the burning and exploding frames of the fighter, bomber and ECM planes took their pilots with them to their grave.

And he would be going in that hell shortly, Michael thought as he felt his hart pounding faster. Surprisingly his feeling of impending doom had subsided. When scrambling towards his fighter only moments ago the feeling was very much present. But as soon as he had entered his fighter the feeling had faded just like it never was there to begin with!

This flight, their actual first 12th Squadron flight, he would be the wingman of captain Grafton, the second senior officer of their new squadron. And the same captain where he had argued with about what was the best fighter overal: the Mirage 2000 or the MIG 23 Flogger.

His dessignation in the squadron would Watchdog 5 (they hadn't got time to change callsigns) following Major Blackowitz F16 and the rest of 12th Squadron as they headed towards the combat zone and their first trail by fire.

Or so his crewchief had called it when they had a quick briefing on the ground before entering their waiting planes standing in a zig zag formation, ready and armed on the concrete of the taxi lane.

Major Blackovitz, the most senior of the gathered pilots, had simply smiled about that comment and had urged to watch their six and stick close to their wingmen.

All those thoughts sped through his mind as the six fighters of there (half) squadron lifted up towards the battle raging at 22000 feet. The squadron consisted out of two F16's piloted by Major Blackovitz and 2nd lieutenant Deveraux; Watchdog Lead and Watchdog 1. Two F4 Phantom; Watchdog 3 and four piloted by 2nd lieutenants Kruger and Hillton and finally his Mirage 2000; Watchdog Five and captain Grafton's Mirage: Watchdog Six.

He hadn't got much time to talk with the two other two 2nd lieutenants: Kruger and Hillton fresh from the Academy.

But the major had assured them all as long as they followed his and Captain Kenneth Grafton orders averything should go smoothly.

"_This is AWACS 02 callsign Sky Watch, Watchdog flight lead do you receive me?"_

A slightly stressed voice of a young female operator broke through.

"_Receiving you loud and clear, Sky Watch."_ Major Blackovitz calm voice broke through the ether answering the operations officers message.

**26th September - 11:04 hours, Watchdog Leader, Minella Airspace. **

"_You'll be under my direct control during this operation... report your current heading and ready status."_

Direct to the point Major Pavol thought with a grunt. She couldn't be much older then the rest of his rookie squadron but tried to sound like a pro. He almost was planning to give a remark about her behaviour but thought against it. No need to squish her just yet... even if it got on his nerves. Let's hope she can take it the major pondered for a moment before replying.

"This is Major Blackovitz, Watchdog leader, to Sky Watch Control, status is okay. Currently heading towards the combat zone with full speed... estimated time of arrival 2 minutes."

"_Copy Watchdog lead, enemy forces consist out of 3 dozen fighters and 14 B52 long range bombers."_ Did he hear her voice waver, or was it just his imagination.

"_You're primary target are the bombers. If they get through the damage they could make to the base could be substantial."_ The young female operator continued, her voice now seemed to sound stronger. Perhaps she would do all right.

"_Husky, Puma and Turtle squadrons will deal with the fighters so you can concentrate on the bombers."_

"Roger that Sky Watch." The major replied looking with a worried expression at the rapidly closing cluster of enemy radar contacts on his radar screen. Even if, and that was a big IF, they were able to get a shot at the bombers it was perfectly clear they were severly shorthanded.

And shorthanded meant outgunned and outnumbered, a situation he really didn't want to put his new pilots, still fresh from the academy in.

He had smiled at the crewchief sarcastic joke of this being their trail of fire but deep down inside he knew that the old man had been right, even if the man hadn't meant it that way. Four of his six pilots were still rookies.

"_Tallyho! Bandits at 10 o'clock."_ A message from their squadrons main frequency came through the radio. _"Requesting clearance to break and attack."_ The calm voice of his only senior pilot, captain Grafton, continued.

Looking up he also noticed the silhouettes of a couple of B52 bombers who apparently had broken through the deffensive perimeter. The bombers might have broken through but they wouldn't last long.

"Roger that Watchdog 6 engage the enemy!"

"Watchdog 3 and 4 give them hand." The Major added as he saw the two Mirages breaking the formation and heading to the closest bomber."

"_Roger sir, breaking of to assist Watchdog 5 and 6!" _The young voice of wing leader Kruger crackled through the radio as they started to persue the farthest of the two bombers.

"Deveraux... follow me, we'll keep them covered in case someone is planning to crash the party."

"_Yes Sir!" _Deveraux yelled in excitement as she looked at him, her sun visor down obscuring her face from view, in her F16 that was flying in perfect formation next to Majors F16. Pushing the throtle they sped after the other four fighters.

_--_

"_Watchdog 6, Fox 2." _

"_Watchdog 5, Fox 2."_

Janet heard over the radio as she followed the Major, providing cover for Watchdog 5 and 6 as they engaged the B52 stratofortress.

The bomber was trying to make evasive manouvres but the two Sidewinder missiles fired by the two fighters didn't waver from their course and impacted head on, taking out 2 engines of the large plane. The bomber was losing speed and started to lose altitude fast.

"_Target destroyed."_ The voice of Sky Watch reported.

"_That's one for the killboard! Told you I -"_

"_Pipe it down Watchdog 5, several enemy fighters are moving to assist the remaining bomber!"_ The voice of Sky Watch cut in as allert lights began to flicker on her control panel.

"_Deveraux enemy at your six! EVADE!" _

Yanking the control stick backwards, making the F16 turn sharp to the left she saw the reflection of the enemy that was going after her, a F15 or maybe F14.

"_They've got lock! They've got lock on me!"_ Deveraux heard Watchdog 4, one of the Phantom pilots yelled through the radio as she desperatly tried to evade here own nemesis. The allert lights were getting on her nerves as she banked her F16 to the right the G forces pushing her back in her ejection seat. The allert lights didn't stop flashing. The enemy pilot was just to good she thought as she felt sweat running down her cheek. A high peeping sound, indicating a lock on her craft was confirmed, didn't help as fear began to take over from reason. She was to young to die... She still wanted to do so much...

A sudden flash made her look back, the F15 that had lock on her was consumed by a fireball.

The Major's F16 shot past her dying nemesis. She felt her heart pounding slower she would live another day.

"_That's one you own me lieutenant." _The major said as he manouvred his F16 alongside hers.

She barley could make out a gratefull noise, her mouth was completely dry so she weakly waved at the major which he answered with a thumbs up sign.

Using her tongue to get some moister back to her dry lips she looked down at her radar and noticed that Watchdog 4 signature was gone... she had completly forgotten about her squadron when she was fighting for her very life. The others still seemed to be okay.

"_Lieutenant Deveraux. Six bailed out but Watchdog 3 still needs our help, care to join me?" _The major shook her out of her thoughts.

"Yes sir!" Time for some payback she thought with a grin arming her missiles!

--

When the missiles impacted in the large structure of the B52 Michael felt glad. His first kill, one he had to chare with the captain but his first kill none the less. Just as he heard the captain mentioning this, in a abnoxious way he was cut off by their operator: Sky Watch.

"_Pipe it down Watchdog 5, several enemy fighters are moving to assist the remaining bomber!"_

Four fighters had broken the defensive line and were heading to assist the remaining bomber.

"_Damnit! Watchdog 5 follow me were going to assist them."_ And just as fast as he received the message the Captains Mirage sped away with full afterburners. He cursed silently under his breath, how could he forget his team members. Pushing the throtle forward he banked his to left and quickly followed Grafton as his Mirage descended to the remaining bomber. Looking briefly up, to see where the major and lt. Deveraux F16's were he noticed that they had their own problems to contend with as lt. Deveraux was spinning and turning her plane in evasives trying to get rid of a F15 that was tailing her. Shouldn't they help them out first? Just as he was planning to mention this to the captain he got his answer:

"_The major will handle that lieutenant! He's a pro so don't worry about them! It's Kruger and Hilton who you should worry about!"_

"Roger sir!" He acknowledged as he turned his focus back to the battle below him. Kruger and Hiltons Phantoms were desperatly trying to evade three F15 but their older jets just couldn't keep up with the more modern fighters. Selecting a sparrow missile Michael targetted the closest enemy fighter who was tailing Krugers fighter.

The enemy pilot apparently noticed him cause the F15 made a sharp turn trying to evade him leaving Kruger alone. Hilton on the other hand wasn't so lucky as he saw another F15 firing a missile at the Phantom.

"_Ejecting!"_ He heard Hilton yell as the canopy of the Phantom was blasted of and Hilton ejected to safety.

And just in time, the impacting missile tore away the left wing making the fuel explode making the spinning aircraft turn into a fireball as it fell from the sky towards the blue sea below.

"_Could use some help around here!"_ Lieutenant Kruger, flying the only remaining Phantom, yelled in fear as he dodged his large fighter to a sharp left turn losing one of the enemy F15's but didn't seem to get rid of the second. _"Oh my god! This ain't fair! This ain't fair!" _He continued to yell as the Phantom tried to stay out of the gunsight of the F15 Eagle.

"_Calm down lieutenant Kruger! We're almost there."_ Captain Grafton barked through the radio as Michael locked on the first F15 and quickly launched one of his AMRAAM missiles witch impacted only a few seconds later. Michael noticed with some relieve that the pilot ejected to safety as a parachute deployed as the fighter burted into flames.

"_Eat this and die!"_ The voice of the captain roared through the radio as Michael banked his own fighter away from the debris of the fighter he had just shot down. Looking up he saw Grafton's Mirage diving on the second F15 as it went after Kruger's Phantom. Grafton launched a AMRAAM missile at almost point blank range, pulling up at the last moment and so just avoiding a mid air collision.

What happened next looked just like something out of a movie. As Michael was pressed hard into his seat, still in the middle of his evasive move, he saw the missile as it seperated from the hardpoint of Grafton's plane, leaving a dark grey vapor trail as it headed to the F15 with supersonic speeds.

The F15 pilot didn't got a change to react as the missile impacted near the cockpit killing the pilot instantly as shrapnel from his fighter smashed the cockpit. Michael pictured himself in the boots of the enemy pilot, at least he died instantly he thought with a shudder.

"_T-t-thanks sir."_ The voice of lt. Kruger stuttered gratefully as his Phantom came flying along side them.

Michael noticed that the old fighter took some hits as several large grenade holes ran from the left wing up into the fuselage exposing some of the interiour of the plane.

Just as he was planning to ask about how Kruger was doing two F16's, the Majors and Janet's, moved in visual view and the calm voice of the major broke the ether. How did the major stay so calm! Michael thought as he listened as the major asked the young lieutenant about his status. The Phantom's radar was destroyed along with several secondary systems but the fighter was still airworthy.

As they all started to turn back to the fight that was still on the voice of the young female AWACS operator almost yelled at them:

"_This is Skywatch to all fighters, new contacts on the radar!!."_

"_Damn it was just going so good!"_

Looking at his screen it was clear that they were gaining the upperhand but if those contact were... he didn't know if they could take more looking at the already slim numbers of friendly aircraft that were still flying.

"_Reinforcements from the HMS Yuriko!"_ Michael felt his body relax as the almost cheering voice of the AWACS operators confirmed that the contacts were friendly.

---

"_This is Colonel Robert McKenzy of the Yuriko... we've heard you Airforce guys needed some help."_

The remaining enemy fighters and bombers started to disperse not having the firepower to deal with the aditional Nilenian air units. And only a few minutes later air of the area was again firmly in Nilenian hands.

"_The Navy to the rescue isn't it Robert?"_ The major said with a grin as he followed Krugers damaged Phantom as it touched down on the landing strip.

"_If it isn't old Black... still flying I see."_ The Colonel chuckled as the Rafale and Harriers grouped up with the remainder of the Minella force as they started to land.

"_I hope you've got some cool beers stacked up down there." _

"_You own us that much seeing we've saved you're asses back there."_

"We'll see what we can do... we'll see what we can do..." The major replied with a laugh, it was good to have some old comrades back Blackovitz thought as he started with his landing procedures.

A party was in order.


	6. Chapter 05, Time to Rest, part 1

"Courage is fear holding on a minute longer." - Thomas Fuller

27th September – 0500 hours, Main Maintenance Hangar, Minella AFB.

Major Blackovitz looked at the empty spaces in the main hangar. It was 5 o'clock in the morning the last of the stars were slowing disappearing from the skies as the sun came up.

They had a lost of good men and woman he thought stopping in front at their own squadron's reserved maintenance space. They had been lucky, only lt. Hilton had to eject and was now recovering from mild injuries to his legs at the base's infirmary. And Kruger's Phantom wouldn't see any action any time soon. The mechanics had counted 23 impacts in only his fuselage, it was a wonder the plane had made it back to base.

The 33rd and 102nd on the other hand weren't so lucky. The 33rd lost their CO (Command Officer) and FO (First Officer) in their first run. It had been thanks to the reinforcements of the RNV Yuriko that they hadn't been totally wiped out.

He smiled, remembering the small victory party yesterday at their own barracks, it had been a long since he had seen Robert McKenzy.

And he still knew to party, Robert, along with his Navy squadron had been welcome guests even though they had to depart quickly, the Yuriko was sailing back to the mainland to defend the capital. It also made clear that the situation was still grim if command ordered the Yuriko battlegroup to the capital.

They had stopped the first wave but the war was far from over he knew that but with some luck it would take time before Yuktobania would try again.

Coming to a stop next to his F16, a red picture of a F15 had been added to his kill list, he climbed into the nimble fighter. He had flown many fighters but the F16 Block 50 was one of the best planes he had flown in, small and agile in dogfight situation while still capable to give ground support when needed. A capable fighter he thought as he looked at the HUD and other instruments before turning his head to his right at the other fighters of his squadron. Kruger's Phantom II was perhaps not the best and newest fighter in the Nilenian Arsenal but it had shown a remarkable resilience in soaking up damage looking at numerous holes, a real survivor. Kruger had been really lucky to fly the old war veteran.

Next to the proud veteran stood his other two fighters; the Mirages 2000. Even though he wanted to have a full F16 squadron, or perhaps a pair of F18 Hornets they had performed well, killing a B52 and taking down several F15's.

Lt. Frost and captain Grafton, his only senior officer, had proven that the Mirage was a good choice after all.

Looking at his left Deveraux's F16 glimmered as the sun reflected on it. Another rookie that had done well even though she still had to learn she had survived. All of his rookies had survived!

27th September – 0630 hours, Barracks 12th Fighter Squadron, Minella AFB.

Janet Deveraux scrambled through the corridor of the barracks dragging her helmet and still pulling her flightsuit on.

Her head pounded, she shouldn't have had drunken so much yesterday she thought regretfully stumbling into the cantina. Looking around she was glad to see that she wasn't the only one who looked terrible. Kruger and Frost also looked quite flushed as they munched on their breakfast while captain Grafton, being his own canny self, was grinning broadly as he looked at their sleepy faces.

"Ah lieutenant!" He yelled smiling as he notices her, the disapproving and pained expressions on Kruger and Frost faces made it clear that they also had a hangover. "A fine isn't it!"

"Could you please speak slightly softer sir." Kruger mumbled as she sat down at the table after she had taken a plate and got something to eat. The captain's smile even widened at this remark. "That's what you get when you drink past you're limit." He said cheerfully receiving a sour look from Kruger.

"So lt. Deveraux what did you think of your actual first combat flight." He continued cheerfully ignoring Kruger's sour looking face. She looked up from her cereals and into the now serious looking captain, Frost and Kruger also looked up waiting for her to answer.

"I really don't know sir." She whispered looking at her spoon splashing it softly in the bowl of cereals in front of her. She had been scared, really scared to die up there.

The captain smiled reassuringly putting down his cup of coffee. "Don't worry kid, if you weren't scared you wouldn't have been human." Was she so easily to read she thought as she looked at the serious looking Captain's. Kruger was sniggering but was silenced by a stump of Frost.

"What was that good for?" Kruger said looking angry, rubbing his side.

"It isn't funny." Frost mumbled looking blankly at something far away.

"Frost is right." Captain Grafton silenced the hot tempered Kruger who was ready to give a remark back.

"And if I remember correctly you really sounded frightened when you were under attack by those F15's." He added which made Kruger turn back to his food.

"Everybody is scared when going in a war zone. As long as you don't let it consume you and follow orders you'll be fine." Grafton said looking briefly at her before emptying his cup and standing up.

"All right I'll see you kids in 30 minutes." And with that left.

27th September – 0630 hours, Molnesk Airbase, South Yuktobania

Major Steiner looked sad at the new fighter pilots that had joined his squadron. Inexperienced children who had just finished flight academy where apparently enough to guard the South or at least Command thought that. Most senior and experienced pilots had been send to the Osean Front.

Sipping his drink he had heard about the failed attack on Minella Airbase. They shouldn't have underestimated the Nilenian Defence Forces, they were defending there homeland for that matter. A old class mate had been in the assault and had called him about the disastrous assault. He had sound bitter something that worried him slightly. There had been more voices not being happy about the current situation.

"Sir?" A shaking voice woke him up from his depressing thoughts. Looking up he saw the worried face of one of his new pilots, Katherine Kamavic, he remembered reading about her from the transfer reports.

"What is it lieutenant." He said mentioning the young pilot to take a chair. Sitting down in front of him she cleared her throat, apparently gathering up her courage. Was he that frightening Steiner thought with a grin.

"Sir I've got a question I wanted to ask you." She said softly looking at him for a sign to continue.

He smiled; "By all means lieutenant fire away."

"Did you ever question orders." She blathered out before clapping her hands for her mouth, apparently shocked she had actually asked him.

"A good question lieutenant." He said with a frown. "Planning to break some rules I should be aware off?"

"No, no sir, off course not! But there have been so many questions about us attacking neighbouring countries… I was just wondering what you thought about this."

Looking at the ceiling he pondered about her question, was that also why his old class mate had sounded so bitter?

Turning his attention back at the still waiting pilot he looked at her with friendly reassuring smile.

"Command will have his reasons lieutenant, I have heard that Nilenia is supplying Osea with warships and equipment so perhaps that is the reason." He almost felt disgusted that he was clinging to such a meagre excuse but he was a man of duty. "I don't like that reason as well." He quickly added seeing the less then convinced face of the lieutenant.

"But one word of advice lieutenant." He looked around before bending over getting closer to her. "Don't mention this again in public… I could have been a member from Internal Security."

She looked shocked the Internal Security Agency was the Secret Police of Yuktobania.

"Don't worry I am not." He said leaning back. "But please don't mention this again in public… you never know."

She nodded: "Yes sir."

Looking at his watch he whistled softly, already 6:45. "Time to get back in the air lieutenant, we've got a sortie planned." Standing up he whistled loudly to get the attention off his squadron. "All right people on to the planes, we've got a job to do!"


End file.
